Taste
by smallish
Summary: The beginning of Kabuto's obsession were Sasuke's scars. KabuSasu. OneShot.


**Summary: **The beginning of Kabuto's obsession were Sasuke's scars. KabuSasu.

**Disclaimer: **The first rule of suing someone is to not suing someone who is poor. So, even if I did claim to own Naruto—which I don't—it would be quite unwise to sue me. So there.

I hope the 'intro' isn't too long, but it felt too sudden to begin with a description of Sasuke's scars.

**Taste**

Simply put, Orochimaru was a connoisseur of potential. In a crowd of filthy beggars, he could easily choose the one that could someday become something. He knew how to coax, prod, and manipulate a person _just enough _to get exactly what he wanted. But it was more than that. What Orochimaru knew—and what Kabuto grew to learn—was that potential only began with power. In the end, that was only one factor. There other things, things one would not think of until one saw the final product. The first was grace of movement; powerful as one may be, Orochimaru was not impressed if they could not move beautifully. There was cunning. There was attitude, a much more open end of the spectrum. Any personality could fit, so long as it was tempered properly. And then, that which Orochimaru savored most, there was beauty.

Sasuke was a fine example of this. Strong, of course, with room to grow. But with a superior bloodline, a natural grace, and a growing sense of cleverness, he was becoming the perfect candidate for Orochimaru. His hidden, fiery persona was something Orochimaru loved to draw out, to infuriate the boy and then force him to subside with a simple comment about his brother. Sasuke's delicate bone structure and refined features made for a striking image; a patch of virgin snow surrounded by blood. He was a beautiful boy, even if Sasuke himself was oblivious or otherwise uncaring to that fact. He was the pretty little treasure that so many wanted, but with his biting remarks and cold demeanor, so many were _left_ wanting. No one could have him. Except Orochimaru.

Looking back, Kabuto suspected that this realization was the beginning of his jealousy. And the beginning of his obsession were Sasuke's scars.

Sasuke had a variety of scars. None stood out too obtusely, none were especially vicious. Most were on his hands from training accidents or mishandling weapons, faint and near-invisible reminders of early shortcomings. He had a somewhat slanted scar on his shoulder that, as it had healed, turned a very pale white. He had another scar, on the same arm, just below his elbow; it was tiny and hardly noticeable unless you touched it. But the scar that Kabuto loved most, loved to trace with his eyes on the occasion he might see it, was a short, thin, raised scar on the inside of Sasuke's hip. Orochimaru had given it to him. "For a bit of fun," he had murmured to Kabuto silkily, teeth catching the light, Sasuke's face an angry and humiliated red as he looked on at the two men. Kabuto was sure to this day that as he'd cleaned the wound, Orochimaru had been watching him intently, and still wondered if the cut had served more purpose than simply putting a boy in his place, or even simply for fun.

As it was, Sasuke sustained few notable injuries. Part of Kabuto was glad of that; it meant Orochimaru would have a strong body that could serve him well. It was what all three of them strove for in Sasuke: strength. But Kabuto wanted to know that pale flesh, that soft hair, those too-dark eyes. He wanted to touch, feel, taste, know those scars. Kabuto wanted to give Sasuke a new one; wanted to hear what sounds he'd make, wanted to feel his struggles. And if he could, he'd like to taste Sasuke's blood. Even as Sasuke became stronger, Kabuto still was eager for Sasuke to need him. But it never came.

Sasuke grew taller as time wore on and managed to make the awkward, lanky limbs of a teenager appear somehow graceful. Kabuto detected no marked voice change as of yet, something he idly wondered upon in long moments of quiet. Their exchanges were short and to the point, a trait which Kabuto once admired in the boy, but now found frustrating. Orochimaru pressed Sasuke to train harder and Sasuke surpassed their expectations (but that was, of course, only expected of him by Orochimaru). Kabuto learned to watch Sasuke from afar in the mornings, observing his often dangerous temper, waiting and hoping to see blood spilled over it.

It was when Sasuke finally collapsed from pure exhaustion that Kabuto had him in the medical ward again. It was a rare event; one as self-disciplined as Sasuke often knew their limits. But Kabuto was nothing if not an opportunist. He checked the boy's vitals carefully and professionally, ignoring the way his eyes wanted to wander over Sasuke's unaware body, ignoring how cool and soft his skin could be, and suppressing his own excitement. Blood pressure was taken, his heart rate monitored, chakra levels surveyed. They needed no sudden surprises.

When all was finished, Kabuto finally let himself look at Sasuke. He was dressed only in sweatpants for treatment and Kabuto's gut gave a curious squirm as he saw the scar on Sasuke's hip disappear temptingly underneath a layer of cloth. Kabuto turned his head to look back at Sasuke's face—just as blank and unfathomable as in his waking hours—and with his eyes followed the boy's jawline, neck, shoulder, arm. Slowly, Kabuto trailed the backs of his fingers up the underside of Sasuke's bare forearm, shivering deliciously at the boy's unresponsiveness.

When he touched the scar below Sasuke's elbow, he traced a circle around it with his thumb, savoring the softness and the sudden roughness combined. With deliberate movements, he placed a hand on Sasuke's hip and pressed his fingers against the scar there, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling at the contact. He leaned forward to graze the scar on Sasuke's shoulder with his lips, taking in the boy's scent. He kissed it, nipped at it, acutely aware of its subtle textures, the distinct taste of the boy's sweat. He gently massaged the scar on Sasuke's hip. Heady, Kabuto rose only to kiss Sasuke gently on the lips. Gently at first—then harder, needier. He gripped Sasuke's sharp hipbone tightly, biting Sasuke's bottom lip even as the unconscious boy took in a quailing break. He raked his nails down over the scar, sure that he was starting to tear skin, until his fingers hit cloth.

All at once Kabuto's lust seemed to dissipate. He ducked his head, almost nuzzling Sasuke's neck and caught his breath. He was still for a moment and removed his hand from the boy's hip. He shifted and softly pressed a kiss to the underside of Sasuke's jawline. Kabuto slowly pulled away and straightened; he watched the boy for a moment.

Sasuke's eyes fluttered but did not open.

_**End Taste**_


End file.
